Love Changes Just Like Patients
by E.B. Rowling
Summary: Surprises wait inside. Pasts come to haunt the doctors, Izzie is being terrorized, relationships are in danger of going to extinction...anything can happen at Seattle Grey's. R&R Please?


Meredith Grey had told Derek Shepard that she'd always be his girlfriend. One night, very late into the evening, she'd whispered those words. It had floated gently from her partially-parted lips and flown into Derek's ears. And he'd interpreted them as "I love you; I want to always love you." Stress the "want." He didn't know if he could trust her—he lacked the trusting bit of a relationship—but he wanted it to be firm. A firm relationship in which he could float on was his dream. Or maybe, he didn't know his nightmare. Whatever it was, her in his arms late at night and hearing those words was like being lifted to God.

"I love you too," he whispered.

"Good."

- - - - -

Meredith's feet clattered all the way down the winding hallway.

"What's with the noise?" asked Cristina Yang, but stopped mid-sentence. "Wait, what are those shoes? Those…those are the most hideous things I think I've ever seen." Meredith looked offended and, just to annoy Cristina, slammed her feet harder against the ground. It created a loud slap-tap sound that rang in Cristina's buzzing early-morning ears.

"Derek gave these to me," said Meredith prissily and scooted forward, purse dangling daintily from her fingertips.

"They're ugly," retorted Cristina. "The kind of present on a guy would give." She spit those words like they were some kind of poison; ripping them off of her tongue in disgust.

"I think somebody's jealous," accused Grey. Cristina gave Meredith her slit-eyed look.

"Jealous? Jealous because you get those ugly clacking shoes?"

"No, because I have a boyfriend who _cares _to give me clackers." With that, Meredith stalked off, smiling to herself. For once in her life, Cristina was speechless.

- - - -

"Hey hon." Meredith slipped her arms around Derek, who was sitting in front of a computer and tapping away.

"Hey sweetheart," greeted Derek, but his voice was faraway. "I'm working here, I'll see you tonight." With that, Meredith stepped back.

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm working," he replied.

"Oh." For some reason, she seemed a bit hurt. As she left, Derek didn't really care much. He was busy looking at the records of a mysterious patient who had been severely injured in a car-crash. Or from some other way; the doctors had no clue. Suddenly, he heard a pat of feet on a dusty floor.

"Hi Addison." Derek already knew, those shoes were too familiar to him. The high-heeled shoes that winded straps up to half her legs. She'd been wearing them for about a week now and refused to take them off—even for work. Women. Derek would never understand them, no matter how many times he whispered to them in the darkness.

"Hey, Derek." There was something different about Addison's voice. Her small voice wasn't wrapping around precise words, like they usually did. These words were muffled and almost shrugged off, as if she didn't care. Derek was taken slightly aback before shrugging. Why would he care?

Derek's eyes scanned the computer screen.

"Mr. Michael-Tee's surgery is scheduled for seven tonight and we still have no clue about his medical history. You'd think we'd be able to find out—but nobody's come, he was found in the street, no ID, no driver's license…nothing. We need to find out if we're going to hurt him during surgery." Derek clicked another button and the website was whizzed away, in its place was darkness. "Oh great," Derek muttered.

"Ha." Addison's half-hearted snort-chuckle rose annoyed bubbles in Derek's bloodstream.

"Addison, if you're not going to help me with our surgery, I suggest you get out," he said blatantly.

"No, I'm good," responded Addison, settling herself down in a swivel chair. As she went around and around and around, giggling like a child, Derek rolled his eyes. He put his head against the keyboard and clicked a few buttons, trying to turn it back on.

"Finally!" cried Derek, watching the screen buzz back on.

- - - -

"Would you ever get me shoes?" Cristina shoved herself closer to Burke. He looked down at her, wrapping his arm around her nicely-shaped body.

"What?" he asked.

"I mean, would you ever care enough to give me two hideous shoes that only guys would buy?"

"I don't know. If you wanted me to."

"But without notice? Would you?"

"Probably not." One of the drawbacks of Burke was he always seemed mysterious and honest. But traits annoyed Cristina but she just wrapped herself closer to him.

"Well, I want you to get me a mindless guy gift."

"What's that?"

"Something that only a guy'd think to buy. Like some hideous roses that make me throw up a little. Or something. It shows you care."

"All right, Cristina. Do you want to scrub in my surgery? It's a tumor in a patient's brain—Carlos Zimmer?—and I requested an intern. Bailey told me to choose anybody." He planted a kiss on her cheek. "So?"

"Sure." Cristina seemed a bit distant but the distance always seemed to be there at one time or another in a relationship. So Burke ignored it and continued to lay down the basic rules for a tumor-surgery. Of course, Cristina had scrubbed in many before, but he felt the need to tell them again. His words, though, fell flat through the air. Cristina wasn't listening. All she was thinking was about Derek.

_Maybe Meredith's right. Maybe I am jealous. Because Burke wouldn't get me something guy-present-ish. Derek would. Because he's all romantic and…McAss-y. But, I guess he's not such a McAss. He makes Meredith happy. _

Burke was done with the rules and was looking at Cristina inquiringly.

"Yes?" guessed Cristina, having not a clue what he was saying.

"What? You want Georgie to scrub in instead of you?"

"No. I mean, no. Sir."

"Good. See you at about seven." Cristina nodded and watched Burke go off into his patient's room to announce what would be done to his brain.

As Cristina began to turn down a corridor that undoubtedly led to a nurse's room, considering nurses flooding past and gossiping all the way, somebody called her name.

"Cristina?" She flipped her heart around.

"_Mom?" _Her voice was almost outraged, annoyed at her mother's being there and half-astonished. Her heart settled with a fluttering sensation. She felt caterpillars begin to reluctantly crawl over each other in her stomach.

"Hello Cristina. Have any surgeries? Good. I need to talk to you." Her mother's voice was thin and stiff. The thinness wasn't natural, but the stiffness was. Cristina led her mother, almost in-a-daze-like, into an empty nurse's room by the side of them.

"Cristina, your old boyfriend is requesting to see you again."

"What?"

"He's here, in this hospital. He called me and told me that he wanted to see you a…'horrendous much' or something. But he can't get up. And I just happened to be in the neighborhood, getting groceries at the fish mart next to your hospital. So I'm here. And Jeffery wants to see you." It took Cristina a moment to digest this and then held her head, a migraine beginning to light a fiery flame in her head.

"Mom? Can I not see him?"

"That's not an option. You don't understand how much he wants to. Please see Jeffery." This wasn't a question, it was a command. It was an shockingly loud command; Cristina's mother was hardly ever loud.

"All right." Cristina sat down, gulping down all the spit that was in her mouth, left over from her mouth going completely dry. Her head and heart spinning simultaneously, she nodded.

"Now."

"Now?" she cried.

"Now. Right now, see Jeffery. I want to see him too, he was a very eligible bachelor. But then you run off with this…Burke fellow. But that doesn't matter now. Go see Jeffery. Maybe there will be 'chemicals'?"

"Chemistry, Mom, Chemistry! And no. I really can't see him. I can't handle this now. Ok?"

"Not ok. Room 7-D. Now, Cristina, now!"

"Fine." Cristina reluctantly stretched her panging legs and stood up. She followed her mother, numbly, up the stairs. Cristina traced her finger along the picture's edge that was next to room 7-D. She didn't know if she could face him without breaking off into tears or being totally obnoxious. Jeffery.

Jeffery was a thin, muscled Asian boy who Cristina had dated when she was thirteen. They'd hit it off immediately and been together all the way through high school. Then they'd gone their separate ways, him going to Columbia (he was a theater geek) and her going to Harvard. They had grown apart and hadn't spoken in years. Years! Then, she felt her foot jerking forward. She wasn't even in control of her own body?

"CRISTINA?" The man in the bed's face picked up abruptly, shocking her backwards. Her mother caught her, fortunately, and Cristina was shoved forward, eyes open. She was hit with a whirlwind of disbelief and who-knows-what-else. Love? Companionship? Anger?

"Jeffery." That was all she could say.

- - - -

"Mr. Michael-Tee, do you remember the incident?"

"Not't all. 'Less ya count a good-lookin' babe."

"Stay with us. You remember an…attractive woman?"

"Big boobs, blonde hair, red lipstick—the whole package. I thinks I was drunk. Erm, and she hit on me. I thinks."

"She hit on you? A woman with…nice features was flirting with you?"

"Yessir. I 'member now, she was real drunk 'n' I was real happy. I don't 'member bein' drunk. I don't think."

"Are you sure you weren't drunk?" Burke's face was inquiring and a bit menacing if you looked to closely. He was annoyed with Mr. Michael-Tee's bad grammar. Mr. Michael-Tee continued to talk in his thick Southern drawl.

"Well, I l'no. Thens I don't 'member anythin' else. No chantin' for me tuh walk intuh the street or 'nything. Just plain ole nothin'."

"Well thanks for your help." Burke, as he turned to Derek, couldn't help thinking "not." Mr. Michael-Tee was no help in situations like this. He was an illiterate fool who probably had been drinking and thought a beautiful blonde would hit on him, with his wrinkled, gray-haired body. Addison and Derek took over from there, standing at opposite sides of the bed.

"You've got some major head injuries," began Addison. Burke walked out of the room, lulled by the sound of the other two doctors handling it just fine. He began to go upstairs, intending to get a good cup of coffee and sit down. In the café. As he was finishing his last flight of stairs, he heard a shrill scream. His heart beat once before feeling like it had stopped.

"Hello?" He turned around him, avidly checking for any sign of where the scream had come from. "Hello?" he repeated, more strong this time.

"Help!" It was a choked, spluttered yelp, but nonetheless there. Burke, feeling urgent and out-of-control, made his way towards the voice. He felt its power and estimated the distance. From what he thought, it was in a closet. No, not a closet. A room? He didn't know.

"Please tell me where you are!" he demanded, head aching to rescue this anonymous yeller.

"Empty—room—"

The voice was cut off. Burke felt himself rushing to the rescue. As soon as he found his way into an empty room by the side of the stairs, his blood stopped cold. His head began to pound fiercely as he saw Izzie, standing there under some forbidden intruder's wrath.

"You?" Burke's voice wasn't nearly as strong and powerful as he'd intended.

"Preston?" The intruder's face shot towards Burke and then right back at cowering Izzie. Tears spiraled down Izzie's pale face. Burke, thunderstruck and frozen, just watched as the man held the gun closer to Izzie's head.

"I've been after this woman."

"No! No!" Izzie's cries were useless.

- - -

"Jeffery, what did you end up doing?" Cristina was holding his hand tightly; the two had been sharing what they had turned into.

"Teaching," he murmured. "I'm an English Teacher. But they found out that I've got leukemia."

"Yeah. SO, what's your class like?"

"Torturous. The kids are always causing chaos throughout the school—never teach head-strong eighth graders—and they're just trouble. Notes are flying, kids are screeching—the whole sha-bang." It was hard to believe this was the Jeffery Cristina had known. He was so much more mature—so much more alive, too. His eyes were swollen and puffy, but they were still lively. They danced with the joy of all his students; no matter what he said, Cristina knew he loved them. It had stopped feeling awkward about three minutes ago, now their conversation slid easily and carelessly.

"Well, I want to be a heart surgeon," shared Cristina. She ventured her eyes into his and noticed his bushy eyebrows. She's missed those. Without thinking, she reached out and caressed it, soon to pull back, feeling very uncomfortable.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Erm. I remember your eyebrows."

"Cristina—I'm married."

"Really?"

"No."

"Ha-ha, hilarious, Jeffery. But I'm engaged."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Don't act like it's the most amazing thing in the world. Yes. His name's Burke. He's not doing your surgery. I don't know who you've got."

"I don't know either. But, wow! Congratulations! That's…wonderful. Really." Jeffery patted her shoulder and gave her a slight squeeze. "I hope he's cool?"

"Very cool," agreed Cristina before sinking down into a lying down position. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scenery around her. The endless medical tools weren't anything new. But the scent of this room—it was just like Jeffery used to smell like. She didn't even mind thinking these thoughts. She had every right to.

_AN: I know that's way too much going on in a chapter, I just got all these crazy, wacked-out ideas and I kept writing and writing…please review? It'd mean a lot to me, I love reviews and they really help me. You can make relationship suggestions, but the plot's all in my head. Or rather, all the plots. ;) D Thanks a lot! _

_Emilyyyyyy _


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